


Really, Dude?

by mamalovesherbagels



Series: Chimney Whump Central [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, chimney has a concussion, everyone loves chimney, he doesn't want to say he's hurt because of course he doesn't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamalovesherbagels/pseuds/mamalovesherbagels
Summary: "As dazed and scrambled as his mind feels, he can still put together that puking after a blow to the head = concussion. He would have to be in a coma (again) to not remember that basic equation after all his years of being a paramedic. Stupid piece of ceiling falling on his stupid head."
Relationships: Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han
Series: Chimney Whump Central [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726990
Comments: 18
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

“Fuuuuck,” Chimney can’t help but groan to himself, staggering up to his feet, and feeling the ground seemingly move beneath him. The movement is too sudden and too quick-- and he ends up puking up the couple of bites of Bobby’s Pasta Thursday dish he had managed to wolf down before the bell went off.

As dazed and scrambled as his mind feels, he can still put together that puking after a blow to the head = concussion. He would have to be in a coma (again) to not remember that basic equation after all his years of being a paramedic.

Stupid piece of ceiling falling on his stupid head.

But the thing is, everyone is already having a terrible day. Buck and Eddie have some weird tension going on between them, Hen is cranky from being up all night with her new foster baby with an ear infection, and they responded to an overdose victim they couldn’t save which makes everyone feel… emotional, knowing what they know about Bobby’s history.

So he doesn’t want to say. 

Because concussions rarely kill people and he doesn’t want to bother everyone and maybe, just maybe, he’s embarrassed to say a little knock to the head has him messed up because everyone else on the 118 seems pretty invincible, shaking off horrible injuries all the time. Buck’s had what, twelve minor concussions at this point?

So he doesn’t say.

He was already making his way out of the house fire already, per Bobby’s orders over radio. Everyone who needed to be saved had been saved. And if he’s a little quiet and stumbles over his words a bit while examining a little girl Eddie pulled from the fire, well, Hen gives him a look but lets it go because it’s been a long day and he’s probably exhausted. And he is, but also, he’s concussed. Mildly, he thinks, so he’s fine.

He’s too concussed to process that having a concussion means his rational decision making might be impaired.

The ride back to the station feels like abject torture; the bumps in the rode helping neither the stabbing pain in his head nor the unhappiness in his stomach, but he makes it through, and manages to avoid everyone on his way over to the bunks.

“Mmmm,” he groans to himself as he flops down, “don’t feel good.”

He only starts to feel worse and worse, and is realizing that hey, this concussion is bad enough that someone besides himself probably needs to go, but he feels like if he tries to get up he’ll just end up falling over because he feels dizzy just lying down, and his head hurts so bad he’s not sure he can get his voice loud enough to call for help.

His phone, does he have his phone? He does, but the screen is so bright he can hardly stand to look at it, so maybe he’s just screwed.

Or not, he thinks, as he hears footsteps approaching.

“Hello?” he manages to squeak out.

“Chim?” a familiar voice responds, and it takes his fuzzy brain a minute to place it, but he does.

“Eddie,” he says slowly, “Eddie, I need help.”

And the fear and disorientation must just be dripping in his voice, because Eddie is immediately on alert and rushing towards him.  
“Chimney? Chimney, what’s wrong?”

“H-hit my head at the house fire,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut tight, “I-I don’t feel good.”

“You hit your head? Why didn’t you…” but Eddie trails off, realizing that’s not what’s most important right now, “okay, okay. I’ll be right back, Chimney, okay? I’ll be right back in thirty seconds.”

For the record, Eddie comes back, with the fellow members of the 118 and medical supplies in tow, in TWENTY seconds, not thirty.

“Chim, honey, symptoms NOW,” Hen commands, towing the line between concerned mother and a furious mother, presumably for him not telling anyone he was hurt at the scene.

“Head hurts. Feel sick,” he moans, “threw up earlier. Dizzy.”

“How’d you hit your head? Do you remember?”

“Ceiling. Piece of ceiling fell on my head. Don’t feel good.”

“I know, I know, honey,” she nods, motioning for Buck to grab the trash can in the corner of the room, “hold on just a second if you need to be sick. Why didn’t you say anything at the fire, hm? You’re a paramedic, Chim, you know about head injuries.”

“Bad day. Didn’t want you guys to worry,” he says simply, before grabbing the trash can out of Buck’s hands and promptly starting to throw up.

“You’re okay, buddy,” Bobby sighs, rubbing his back, “you’re going to be fine. Get it all out.”

“I’m gonna call Maddie,” Buck whispers before slipping out the room.

“Ouch,” Chimney whines after a few minutes, settling back down.

“Your head?” Bobby asks sympathetically, talking to him in a voice he usually saves for Harry… or Buck, “I can imagine it doesn’t feel very good right now, huh?”

“Hurts. Didn’t think it would get this bad.”

“That’s why you speak up at the first sign of a concussion, hm? You said you were sick earlier, too?”

“Mmm. Right after the ceiling fell.”

“Oh, Chim,” Bobby sighs, “I know my smartest paramedic knows better than to not report that any of the EMTs on scene. You didn’t want to worry us, you said?”

“Mmm.”

“Well, I personally think this is more worrisome than you telling us right when you got hurt, but we’ll talk more about that when you’re feeling better.”

“Vitals are all fine and it’s probably just a bad concussion, but since he’s disoriented and sick to his stomach I’d feel better if we took him into the hospital for a CT just to be sure there’s no bleed. Especially since he’s had an actual brain hemorrhage before.”

“Just because of the… rod? No, rebar. Rebar.”

“Rebar, that’s right,” Hen says calmly, giving him a “you just proved my point” sort of look, “so we just want to make sure that this injury isn’t any worse than it seems, okay? Not taking any chances with you after that whole coma saga.”

“...not in the ambulance,” he moans after a moment.

“Chim,” Eddie starts, “we’re in a place that just has ambulances sitting around and you’re having a medical emergency and we all just happen to be EMTs. Of course we’re going to put you in the--”

“No sirens,” he whimpers in a small, childlike voice, “head hurts.”

“Okay, no sirens,” Bobby says after a long moment, “no sirens, Chim. Eddie, go get a gurney, please?”

“You got it, cap.”

“Maddie.”

“Buck’s calling her, honey,” Hen nods, “I’m sure she’ll meet us there.”

“Maddie,” he repeats, “so pretty.... Gonna be mad?”

“I think she’s mostly just going to be concerned that beautiful brain of yours doesn’t get completely turned to mush,” Hen says diplomatically, because yeah, if SHE is mad Chim didn’t say anything when he got hurt then of course Maddie is going to be at least a little mad, too, but that’s not what Chimney needs to hear at the moment.

“And you know,” she adds after a moment, desperate to make him smile, “she IS really pretty. You have good taste in girls, and that’s coming from me, who likes girls, too.”


	2. You Beautiful Little Idiot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's a super quick update because I'm not working at the moment due to coronavirus, so I might as well flex my writing muscles. I'm thinking they'll be one more chapter to this? But I'm not 100% certain. Also, apologies for typos I'm sure you'll find. I proofread my work, but I have ADHD, so proofreading really is not my strongsuit.

“Easy, Chim, it’s okay,” Hen hums, more heartbroken by his whimpering and fidgeting than she expected to be. They’ve all seen each other in various levels of physical pain before, but something about the disorientation, the childlikeness brought on by the concussion just tugs on her heartstrings.

“We’re almost at the hospital, Chimney,” Eddie adds, patting his shoulder, “just try and stay still.”

“Hurts.”

“Yeah, I bet. How about the next time a chunk of ceiling falls on your head you just tell us, okay, Chim?”

“Mmm,” he fusses, squirming a bit again.

“Hey, hey, stay still,” Hen coos, rubbing her thumb over his cheek, “it’s all okay, Chim. We just want you to be healthy and safe. You’re not in any trouble, honey.”

“Christopher’s dad, not mine,” Chimney whines.

“That’s right,” Eddie chuckles, “I can’t ground you, buddy, it’s okay. But you’re pretty much going to be grounded for a while, anyway. No work, no leaving your apartment. Just rest until that head of yours heals up.”

“M’fine. Not that bad.”

“Sure, sure,” Hen nods sarcastically, rolling her eyes, “because it’s just a normal day when we have to use the ambulance for YOU.”

“Just a concussion.”

“A nasty one,” Eddie comments, gently ruffling Chimney’s hair a bit, which is something Chimney would probably (lightly) punch him in the arm for if he were more mentally all there at the moment.

And it is a nasty concussion, but thankfully nothing more than that, as confirmed by the head CT ran at the hospital. They want to keep him for a few hours of observation, but later that night they’re fine with him going home, especially in the care of his former nurse girlfriend.

“Water,” Maddie says in her most commanding dispatch operator voice, holding a water bottle and helping him sit up ever so slightly in his hospital bed.

“Don’t want it,” he whines, but ends up giving in because Maddie is so sweet and soooooo pretty. Maybe even prettier than normal, somehow?

“Thank you, Howie,” she murmurs, “I don’t want you getting dehydrated.”

And yeah, Maddie is PISSED that her boyfriend, a PARAMEDIC, knew he had a concussion and didn’t end up telling any of his team for another two hours, but knows that’s a conversation for a later time. Chimney clearly feels absolutely horrible, and also isn’t… aware enough to have a meaningful conversation about that, anyway. What’s most important to Maddie at the moment is just to keep him as comfortable and calm as possible.

“M’fiiiiine.”

“Oh? So why are we at the hospital then, Howard?”

“Ceiling fell.”

“That’s right, a piece of ceiling fell on your head. So you’re not fine, but you will be. I’ll make sure of it.”

“It hurts,” he whines, pouting at her in a way that is both very endearing and concerning at the same time.

“I’m sure it does,” she sighs, gently kissing his forehead, “I’m sure it does, Chim. Wish I could make it all better.”

“Stay.”

“Not going to leave your side for a second,” she nods, kissing his forehead again, “so don’t be worried about that. Going to put all that nursing school knowledge to good use on you. You’re stuck with me, Howie.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” he replies, the tiniest smile on his face.

“You’re sweet,” she giggles, “even concussed out of your mind you are just so sweet. How did I get so lucky?”

“No, m’lucky,” he insists, shaking his head, which he immediately regrets.

“Hey, hey,” Maddie hums nervously, “hey, Chimney, you need to keep your head still, okay? The more you move it the more it’s going to-- oh, well now there’s puke in my hair. This is JUST like my nursing days.”

“S-sorry,” he whimpers, trying to hide his face.

“Hey, no, it’s fine,” about a million times more worried about him than her hair, “don’t be sorry. Was an accident. Hey, no, no, no, don’t cry. It’s okay, I promise.”

“S-sorry,” he sniffles again, and Maddie reminds herself that hyper-emotionality is another run-of-the-mill concussion symptom to keep her heart from beating out of her chest.

“No sorries, none of that,” she coos, kissing all over his face for a few seconds, “who cares about my hair, hm? You’ve heard my stories from back when I worked in the ER- this is nothing, Chim. I just want you to feel better.”

“So nice. T-too nice for me--”

“No, no,” she sighs, hugging him as best as she can with him being in the hospital bed, “you are the nicest man I’ve ever known. If anyone is too nice for the other, it’s--”

“Nooo. Perfect Maddie. Like a-an angel.”

“Well, thank you, Howie,” she giggles, sending a message in the “Chimney is a concussed dumbass” group text that Hen had started for someone to come sub in for her real quick so she can rinse her hair out in the hospital bathroom’s sink.

“Hello there, my dear,” a new voice for that day coos a minute later, “I’m gonna sit with you for a moment while Maddie cleans up a bit.”

“Athena?”

“Yes, of course, you think I was just going to sit at home after hearing one of my family took an awful knock to the head?”

“Thank you,” Maddie mouths at her, rushing out.

“Hi,” Chimney says a bit meekly.  
“Hi,” Athena can’t help but laugh, “don’t worry- I’m not going to give you an earful. I’m sure you’ll be getting that from both Bobby and your girlfriend later. Though I do have to say, what a stupid, stupid thing to do for such a smart paramedic.”

“Mmm. Regret it now.”

“Ah, so some of the brain is still intact, I see. That’s good, that’s good. How are you feeling? Not very good, I’m assuming, by the fact that Maddie is having to wash out her hair?”

“Didn’t mean to.”

“I know, you can’t help it. Concussions are miserable. I had a pretty bad one back when I was a teenager.”

“You did?” he asks. 

“Yes,” she nods, “something fell on my head, too. Not a piece of ceiling, though. Just a book. There was an earthquake.”

“Mmm. Don’t like those.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” she says with a chuckle, “those are the reason my husband has to send you into buildings that are about to collapse.”

“That’s kind of fun, though.”

“You beautiful little idiot,” Athena snorts, just as Maddie comes back in.

“Well, he is beautiful,” she grins, “and that second part might just be true after the decisions he’s made today.”

“M’your idiot.”

“You are, you are,” Maddie hums, “and I’m proud to have you. Even when you make questionable decisions out in the field.”

“Wasn’t in a field, was at a burning HOUSE.”

“Chim, I meant-- never mind,” she sighs, both tickled and worried by the disorientation, despite knowing there’s no brain bleed so this is all just par for the course, “okay, even when you make questionable decisions in a burning house.”

“A part of me really wishes I had the foresight to video tape all of this.”

“Might teach him a lesson about ignoring a head injury,” Maddie says with a wink, before turning to her now yawning boyfriend, “are you sleepy, my love?”

“Mmm. Wanna nap.”

“Okay, okay, but I’m going to have to wake you up in an hour, okay? You know the drill for the first 24 hours of a severe concussion.”

“I know it’s fiiiiiiine.”

“You say that now but you are going to be SO cranky when I wake you-- oh. Someone is already asleep.”

“Poor thing. Poor stupid, irresponsible thing,” Athena sighs.

“I am holding it together because me lecturing him is the last thing he needs right now,” Maddie says calmly, “but Athena, I am so angry I feel like my skin might burst into flames.”  
“Welcome to dating a firefighter, Madeleine.”


	3. One Long Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I lied, there's going to be at least one more chapter after this one. I am very bad at limiting myself.

“Howie, Howie, it’s okay,” Maddie coos, trying not to cry herself as she gently, gently rocks him as not to move his head too much, “I know you don’t feel well, I know, but you’re okay. I’ve got you. You hit your head, remember?”

“My head? Hurts,” he whimpers, having just been woken up by Maddie as per doctor’s instructions to wake him every hour that night, confused, in pain, and feeling sicker than he has in a long while. And like the walls of Maddie’s bedroom are moving?

“Your head, yes, I know it hurts. You got hurt at work today, well, now yesterday, technically. Focus for a moment. Can you remember how?”

“What… oh, the ceiling,” he sniffles, and Maddie sighs in relief that she’s not about to have to rush him back to the ER.

“Yes, yes, I’m glad you remember now. That’s why you feel so terrible, and that’s why I have to keep waking you up. Not because I just feel like being mean.”

“Not mean, nicest,” he whines, laying his head against her chest.

“There you go, Chim, just try and relax. Everything is okay.”

“Maddie, it r-really hurts,” he cries, in a tiny voice that reminds her of taking care of a sick Buck when he was little.

“I know,” she whispers, biting her lip to keep from bursting into tears, “I know. We can try giving you some medicine. How’s your stomach?”

“Sick,” he groans.

“Still?” she sighs, though not really all that surprised, “okay, my love, can we please try some medicine and just a few sips of Gatorade?”

“Noooo,” he near growls, “gonnamakemepuke.”

“It might not,” she tries, “and the dehydration could be making you feel worse and seeing you in so much pain is just breaking my heart. Please, Howie? Please?”

“Fine,” he whimpers, the desperation in her voice getting to him. Maddie is just so pretty and sweet and she should never ever feel sad or scared, okay?

“Thank you,” she breathes, giving him a quick peck on the lips before scurrying to get his drink and his medicine. And if he whiiiiiiiiiiines the whole time she’s gone like a sick little child who wants their mother, well, she’s polite enough not to mention it.

“Three more sips,” she instructs, after he swallows the two pills she brought him, and he very begrudgingly complies because it looks like maybe Maddie might start crying? Which he just absolutely is not okay with and will do anything to remedy.

“Thank you, Howie, thank you so much. You know, all your friends are just so worried about you. They keep texting me asking how you’re doing even though it’s late and they should be sleeping.”

“Really? Sleep is important,” he says rather seriously, laying his head back down on her chest.

“It is,” she agrees with the tiniest little laugh, “but so are you. They want to make sure their friend is okay, and I can’t blame them. You’ve got a pretty bad concussion, handsome.”

“Handsome? Even with my scar?”

“Even with your scar,” she nods, hugging him a bit tighter, “the handsomest. The handsomest, sweetest man even when you’re exhausted and feeling so terrible. So glad I can be with you right now.”

“Me too. My Maddie,” he drawls, tugging on her shirt a bit, which is incredibly endearing, even if he’s only doing so because he is only about halfway present mentally.

“That’s right, I’m right here,” she hums, “right here with my Howie. Not going to leave your side for a long while, mister. I hope you like my apartment because you’re stuck here for at least a week.”

“Mmm. Like your apartment. Y’have good taste.”

“Thanks,” she snorts, very much amused by the compliment on her interior designing from her concussed boyfriend, “thank you, my love. You just rest. Everything is going to be ooookay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, wiggling a bit, and it’s clear that he’s still very, very uncomfortable. 

“Chimney?” she asks softly, crading the back of his head with her hand to hold it steady against his squirming, “is there anything I can do to help? Even just a little bit?”

“Dunno,” he whines truthfully, “feel so bad. Hate it, Maddie.”

“I hate it, too,” she sighs, racking her brain to try and think of something, anything that might take away even the tiniest piece of his discomfort. 

“M-Maddie?”

“Yes, How--”

“Going to throw u-up,” he whimpers, shaking a bit and trying to sit up.

“I got you,” she says quickly, trying to hide how worried she is that he still can’t keep anything in his stomach as she grabs the trash can she had the foresight to keep closeby and leans the two of them up against the bedrame, “it’s okay, Chimney.”

“S-sorry,” he says with a gag, starting to get sick a moment later.

“Poor baby,” Maddie sighs, squeezing him, “you’re okay, I’m here.”

“M-mmm. Sorry, M-Maddie.”

“Shh, shh,” she coos, kissing the top of his head, “shh. You have nothing to be sorry for. You can’t help getting sick, Howie.”

He just fusses and fidgets some more, and she’s unsure of what to do other than to try and hold his head still.

“Easy, easy,” she warns gently, “the more you move your head the more it’s going to hurt and the ickier you’re going to feel. And we don’t want that, no?”

“Mmmm,” he grumbles, sounding like a stubborn little toddler, and Maddie is just so overwhelmed and worried and heartbroken that it’s taking all of her strength not to start weeping. 

She tries and tries to comfort him, and he clings to her, clearly wanting her presence, but nothing she does really seems to help, and he more or less ends up crying himself back to sleep.

Sadly, she sets the alarm on her phone to go off from another hour from now, because as much as she wants to let him sleep for as long as he wants undisturbed, she knows the drill for head injuries. He needs to be woken up every hour tonight, even if it makes her feel near unbearably guilty to do so.

She also knows that she should be sleeping while he is, but she’s too tense to sleep. She hasn’t pulled an all nighter since she was in nursing school, but Chimney is more important to her than acing a biochemistry test, anyway, and really, trading one night of sleep for his wellbeing isn’t a big deal at all. 

But it does get a little boring- with him laying on her, asleep, and her exhausted but too anxious to fall asleep herself. 

“Just have an hour to waste before I have to be evil and make you cry by waking you up again,” she whispers to him, and he makes a little noise in his sleep as if to protest against her calling herself evil.

“I was joking-- oh, look who’s calling,” she hums, picking up a second later in a hushed voice, “hi, Bobby. He’s sleeping, so I have to talk quietly.”

“He’s sleeping, that’s good. I just wanted to check on you two.”

“He’s… we’re not having a very good night over here,” Maddie whispers, eyes watering a bit, “he’s absolutely miserable when he’s awake, and I feel like such a bit-- a mean person, such a mean person every time I have to wake him up.”

“You’re just following the doctor’s orders,” Bobby says in that calming voice of his, “but I’m sorry he’s having such a rough night. He’s in a lot of pain?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, in a tone that implies that he made an understatement, “and if I try to give him medicine for the headache he just ends up throwing up ten minutes later, so.”

“Poor thing,” Bobby says sadly, before amending, “poor things, the both of you.”

“I’m fine, Bobby,” she says, feeling a bit shy as she really has never interacted with him one-on-one very much, “I’m not the one with the concussion.”

“But you’re the one caring for the one with a concussion. That can’t be easy.”

“It’s not,” she concedes, “I just wish I could make it all better. I hate seeing him suffer like this.”

“He is going to be just fine,” Bobby says gently, “but I know right now it’s rough. We all love Chimney and no one wants to see him in any pain. I just wish he had told us he was hurt right away--”

“Believe me, you’re preaching to the choir. I’m just saving the lecture for when he has the mental focus to retain any of it.”

“Wise choice,” Bobby says with a small smile, “and don’t worry, when he’s well enough to come back to work he’ll hear it from me, too, as his boss.”

“It’s sweet of you to be so worried about him, but you really should be asleep. It’s what, two am?” Maddie says after a quiet moment.

“And shouldn’t YOU be getting some sleep while you can? I imagine you’re exhausted.”

“Oh, I am,” she sighs, “just… don’t think I can sleep.”

“I don’t work tomorrow,” Bobby says casually, “so I don’t mind staying on the phone with you a little while longer.”

“Bobby, you don’t have to--”

“I want to. Chimney wouldn’t want you awake and terrified all alone, and neither would your brother.”

“I’m fine--”

“Maddie, please? I insist.”

“Okay,” she nods after a thoughtful pause, “okay, thank you, Bobby.”

“Anything for my family.”


	4. The Morning After

“Alright, alright, let’s slow it down a little bit,” Maddie advises, glad the height difference between the two of them is minimal so that it’s easy for her to steady him.

“I got this,” he protests, but makes no effort to free himself from her grasp and continues to lean on her heavily.

“I still don’t understand why you insist on moving from the bed to the couch,” Maddie says with an eye roll.

“Because I’ve been in bed since yesterday, duh,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Moving for the sake of moving, of course.”

Really, she’s glad that his spirit and stubbornness and awareness are all coming back to him, because dealing with a glorified toddler was both very difficult and very concerning. She just wishes he wasn’t so determined to start moving around and such before he’s ready.

They make it to the couch without further incident, where Chimney immediately flops down, burying his face in a cushion.

“Careful,” Maddie warns, rolling her eyes again, which is maybe the seventh time since two hours ago, when he woke up for real, about twenty minutes before her next “wake up Chimney” alarm was due to go off.

“Mmm it’s nice and comfy and dark.”

“So is the bedroom, where I shut all of the blinds,” she retorts, trying her very hardest not to roll her eyes an eighth time.

“Hey Maddie?”

“Yes?”

“Did you get ANY sleep last night?”

“Are you calling me cranky?” She asks, raising an eyebrow that he can’t see because his face is still buried in the couch cushion.

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head which of course hurts and makes him moan, “bad timing for that question, but I’m just worried.”

“Don’t be.”

“So I’m taking that as a no, you didn’t get any sleep?”

“I wanted to be awake in case you needed me,” she answers gently, “no different from overnight shifts at the call center.”

“Well, it’s kind of a little different,” he says, feeling guilty, “because in this scenario you actually could have dozed off for little bits when I was sleeping.”

“I wanted to be awake in case you needed to go back to the hospital,” she reiterates, “you were pretty out of it, and I wasn’t sure I could trust you not to fall out of bed or something if you woke up when I wasn’t awake.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“No, don’t be sorry for that, you couldn’t help it. And I doubt YOU would’ve felt comfortable sleeping at all if the tables were turned.”

“Probably not,” he admits, “but you know, I’ll be fine now for a little while on my own if you want to take a nap.”

“Eh, I’m not so sure. It’s still within the first 24 hours since you got hurt. I need to keep an eye on you.”

“Maddie--”

“Nope,” she cuts him off, popping the p, “you are not going without any supervision, mister, so don’t even try.”

“But--”

“No. Any more questions?”

“No,” he sighs, “it’s just that you must be exhausted.”

“I am,” she agrees, knowing that there’s no sense in lying, “but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make, given the circumstances. Don’t want anything bad happening to you, my love. Well, I suppose, anything worse than what’s already happened to you.”

“Funny,” he says with a little chuckle, pulling his head from out of the cushion slowly, “I guess I am pretty unlucky.”

“Is this the first time you got seriously hurt on the job?” Maddie asks after a moment, mulling it over, “the rebar was a car accident, and the stabbing was my ex-husband, and you weren’t on the clock for either of those.”

“I think this is the first time,” he says after thinking it over, which isn’t easy as his mind is still a little cloudy, “I mean, I’ve gotten bruises and cuts, but nothing that’s led to me being in the hospital before yesterday.”

“Well, congratulations, you’ve finally caught up to my brother,” Maddie sighs, smoothing over his hair gently.

“Suppose I have,” he laughs, before wincing.

“Easy,” Maddie instructs, sitting beside him on the couch and carefully pulling him so that he’s all but in her lap.

“Hurts,” he mumbles, leaning his head on her shoulder.

“I can only imagine. Never took a chunk of ceiling to the head before,” she says, almost tacking on a story about a mild concussion from Doug, before recognizing that it would likely upset Chimney, which isn’t at all what he needs right now.

But he’s frowning, and Maddie wonders if his mind is already going there.

“I’ve never took a hit to the head anywhere near as bad as you have,” she says quietly and carefully, “so please don’t be worried about me.”

“Not fun to think about though,” he whispers, eyes welling up despite himself, “sorry. Still emotional.”

“Which is 100% a symptom of a concussion and 100% not something you need to apologize to me for,” she insists, wrapping her arms around him, “besides, crying in front of me isn’t a big deal, okay? I’m your girlfriend.”

“I know,” he sniffles, wiping at his eyes, “it’s just I don’t like crying so easily.”

“Welcome to my world,” she jokes, kissing the top of his head, “though you should grow out of it in a couple of days.”

“Maddie,” he says with a little snort, “being emotional isn’t baaaaaaaad. It’s just not normal for me.”

“Keep that in mind when I inevitably can’t keep from crying when I’m giving you the lecture you know is coming eventually.”

“...You can just give it to me now, if you’d like.”

“I’m kind enough to wait until you’re not feeling so miserable,” she says calmly, “so enjoy this peace while it lasts.”

“Maddie, I know I should’ve--”

“Later, okay? Please.”

“Okay,” he nods gently, again regretting moving his head. As much as he just wants to get that conversation over with, he knows Maddie is absolutely exhausted and probably doesn’t want to get into something so emotionally charged until she feels more rested and less anxious. Letting her have her way on this one is really the least he could do for her, he figures.

“Stop moving your head,” she can’t help but laugh, “really, Chim, this should be ingrained in your head by now.”

“Concussions affect memory and recall, you know this.”

“...Fair,” she snorts, squeezing his hand, “I’m glad you're cognizant enough to be a smart ass, again.”

“Thank you, I think?”

“I was really worried about you, Chim,” she murmurs, rubbing her thumb over his hand, “there were a couple of times I really considered taking you back to the ER. You were so… out of it, and uncomfortable, and confused and I was afraid you’d get really dehydrated when you kept throwing up. You really scared me, my love.”

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly, trying to reach up to kiss her cheek but Maddie is wisely holding him steady in place, “I don’t really remember much of it.”

“That’s good,” she nods, “don’t want you remembering being so miserable. Having it seared into my brain is enough for the both of us.”

“I’m sooooorry,” he repeats, wiggling to again try and kiss her.

“Chim, stay still, it just makes your head hurt even more--”

“You’re so pretty I can’t help myself--”

“Chim--”

“Get a room, you two,” a voice breaks them away from each other, and Maddie is momentarily terrified before remembering that she gave Buck a key to her place.

“Buck? You ever heard of knocking, buddy?”

“I called and texted Maddie to let her know I was coming over. With bagels, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“I haven’t exactly been on my phone. I sort of have my hands busy with Mr. Concussion over here.”

“Yeah, well I’m taking him off your hands for a few hours so you can get some sleep.”

“Buck, no--”

“I babysit Chris aaaaaaaaall the time. I was born for this.”


End file.
